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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009646">like liquefied dying sparks, like burning butterflies (reversed courtier AU drabble collection)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci'>lucigucci</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Corpses, Dark Magic, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Mild Gore, POV Second Person, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:48:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(title from the song golden antlers by glass animals)</p><p>the idea of the reversed courtier AU belongs to @drakonishe on tumblr, so go check them out! they're really cool! the basic idea is that the main 6 take the place of the courtiers-- specifically, asra and valdemar switch roles. notes: valdemar is referred to as marie, nadia's death is being investigated by the apprentice and lucio</p><p>Season of the Witch (Lana del Rey)-- The apprentice meets Quaestor Alnazar while working at the palace and is alarmed to discover that Alanzar has taken an interest in their magical abilities.</p><p>Habibi (Tamino)-- Praetor Devorak has made a mistake once again. His master is more than happy to discipline him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice &amp; Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana) &amp; Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/You, Asra/Julian Devorak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. season of the witch (1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a knocking on the library door. You glance up from your book, puzzled. The Count is supposed to be out today, and Marie is in another country, and apart from those two, you can’t imagine anyone else who knows you’re staying at the palace for the investigation. From your position at the desk you can see the great library doors just a few yards away. “Come in!” you call. </p><p>The person who enters more glides in than walks in when they open the door. Resplendent violet robes of sheer silk trail behind them as they approach, the color matching their piercing eyes. “We have not met,” the stranger announces in a voice as soft as their robes.</p><p>“Oh. Er, no, we haven’t. I’m new here.” You stand up from your desk and hold out your hand for them to shake, which they smile at and grasp with two of their own fingers. A heady waft of incense hits your nose at their touch. </p><p>“So you are. And your name, my dear magician?”</p><p>“I’m--” You pause when your heart skips a beat and withdraw your hand. “Wait. How did you know that I’m a magician?”</p><p>Their grin does not dim. Both their dimples pop out under their hypnotizing eyes. “Your magical aura is quite tantalizing,” they say. “As a fellow practitioner of the unknowable arts, I have an appreciation for raw talent. Quaestor Alnazar, at your service.” They give you a low sweeping bow that jingles some of the necklaces around their neck and ruffles their frosty hair. </p><p>“Ah, I see. Nice to meet you, Quaestor.” You try out a bow too, but this might have been the wrong move, since the Quaestor laughs. You hastily straighten back up. </p><p>“Our beloved Count has hired you for the investigation of our departed Countess, has he not?”</p><p>“He, um. Has. Yes.” Even though you aren’t supposed to reveal your purpose here to anyone at the palace, surely a high-ranking government official would understand that it’s confidential information.</p><p>Alnazar cocks his head to the side. “And how did he find such a talent as yours? He hired you independently of the government, without prior approval from his consultants.”</p><p>You avert your eyes. The Quaestor, somehow, doesn’t seem to feel the need to blink, or break eye contact, and it’s freaking you out. “He… had a vision a few nights. So fate called me here, I guess.”</p><p>“Fate is a fickle friend.”</p><p><em>Fucking what?</em> “Yes, it is,” you reply instead. “Lucio told me I would be working as a private party in the investigation. That must have been why we haven’t met before.”</p><p>“I reside in the dungeons of the palace most every day. I assume you have not ventured down there yet.”</p><p>You flick your gaze back up to Alnazar. “Dungeons?” you clarify.</p><p>“Didn’t he tell you, my dear?” They gesture around the floor of the library with a lazy hand. “The dungeons under the castle make up approximately one quarter of the royal family’s palace.”</p><p>Lucio hadn’t told you that. You reflexively glance upward towards the Count’s bedroom, then to Alnazar’s enchanting smile. “What’s down there?” you ask.</p><p>They lean forward, dangerously close, and before you can back away, they use a gentle finger to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Secrets upon secrets, little one,” they murmur. It’s hard to breathe. Everything is incense and orchid. “Discoveries beyond your wildest dreams.”</p><p>“Would… would you take me there?” you whisper.</p><p>They grin, revealing canine pearly teeth. “No.” They pull back and stride around you to cast their curious eyes towards your research. All at once, oxygen returns to your lungs, and you breathe a sigh of relief.</p><p>“But-- there could be clues down there! Evidence!” you exclaim. </p><p>“The Countess rarely visited the dungeons,” Alnazar replies calmly, and checks the cover of the book you were reading with vague interest. </p><p>“If she was murdered, like Lucio thinks, then what if the person who killed her--”</p><p>Alnazar chuckles. “This is an interesting choice for a book to read. I doubt you’ll learn anything of note.”</p><p>“Quaestor, forgive my bluntness, but you aren’t being very helpful,” you grumble.</p><p>They just look back at you with that permanent smile. “I live to carry out the wishes of the Vesuvian government, and therefore to carry out your wishes as well, Master Magician. What is it that you require of me?”</p><p>You slump back into your chair. This is going nowhere fast. Despite their words, you doubt that they respect you as a real asset to Lucio. “How can I get to the dungeons?” you inquire.</p><p>“Ah, now I’m afraid that simply won’t do.” You open your mouth to interject, but are interrupted by a pair of slender hands resting on your shoulders. That dizzying scent is back to cloud your senses. “You see, the dungeons were used to treat victims of the Red Plague. The only outsiders allowed, besides myself and a select few researchers, were patients and clients who were already infected.” Their voice grows dreamy and sultry, threatening to carry you along with it. “Oh, even after the disappearance of the plague, the remnants of the disease lurk in every corner, waiting to take a fresh victim. A trip down to the dungeon without proper protection is certain death for such a delicate mortal such as yourself.” They trail their fingertips up your cheek, and, with a start, you realize your eyes have closed. You try to shake the haze away. </p><p>“Then-- then why do you work there?” you slur.</p><p>“Sentiment, I’m afraid, pure and painful. I miss those days.”</p><p>Miss the days of the plague? The days when every day was a new nightmare, when terror ran rampant like rats in the streets, when death and decay became the new normal? </p><p>“You would look lovely in red, my innocent one, I am sure of it. Imagine your veins illuminated under your skin, swollen, scarlet…” Alnazar traces an artery down your neck, making adrenaline pulse through that same tunnel, racing under his fingers. “And those big bloodshot eyes, dripping with infection, why, how could anyone resist?”</p><p>“You’re sick,” you hiss.</p><p>“You need me. You need my help in the investigation and you need the information I can provide.”</p><p>You wrench yourself out of your seat and out of the Quaestor’s tender grasp. “Maybe so, but I don’t think we’ll work very well together,” you growl at them. “I’d rather go forward alone.”</p><p>“Suit yourself. If you do change your mind, you know where to find me.” Alnazar waves to you as they stroll back the way they came. Once the door closes behind them, you shudder. What information and help were they referring to? Sure, they seemed to know more than they let on, but what price would you have to pay to earn their trust?</p><p>Although it twists your stomach into knots… this might be the best way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. season of the witch (2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marie gave you instructions clear as day when they visited the palace. They told you about the series of trick books in the library, about the narrow staircase that leads to the secret elevator in the lower level. And yet, you are still unprepared. You promised Marie to visit the dungeons without letting anyone know-- not Lucio, and not even Alnazar, who you wanted to learn more about anyway. “When I worked with him, I knew he wasn’t human,” Marie had said, furrowing their brows together, round eyes wide and scared. “You can’t trust him. He doesn’t think like us. He doesn’t work for his own moral compass, he doesn’t answer to a higher power-- it’s all a game to him.”</p><p>As soon as the trick bookcase closes behind you, so that the only light is the conjured torch in your hand, you regret ever persuading Marie to let you go. They were right. Something is very wrong here. The darkness pressing in on all sides is oppressive, stifling, unnatural. You take the stairs one careful step at a time. A million terrible ideas race through your mind all at once. What if Marie was mistaken about this staircase? What if your suspicions about Lucio are right, and this was all part of his scheme? What if you find another remnant of the Countess’ spirit haunting the palace?</p><p>Your thoughts come to a halt when you find the end of the stairs. As per Marie’s instructions, a rusty black elevator looms out of the shadows. You almost hoped that it didn’t exist, that you could turn back now without any guilt, but now your destiny is sealed.</p><p>Someone is singing.</p><p>It’s echoing up the elevator shaft until it takes on an ethereal silkiness when it reaches your ears. The song is haunting, yet gorgeous. It dances around you, embraces you, kisses up your neck into your ears, extinguishes the flame in your hand--</p><p>Your light! You frantically try to conjure another, yet try as you might, the darkness around you keeps the light from lingering. The singing from below falters and dies to be replaced by a chuckle. “Who are you?” you demand.</p><p>“Hello again,” a familiar voice reverberates around the stone.</p><p>“Ah-- Quaestor Alnazar?”</p><p>“Come down to me, my dear. I would like very much to see you.”</p><p>A gust of magic swirls around you, so strong you have to scrunch your eyes closed for a few seconds. But when you open your eyes again, you’re horrified to see that you are no longer in the elevator room-- no, there are golden lanterns lighting the walls here. Fine scarves of silk hang along the ceiling and the floors are covered with plush rugs. You might have accidentally stumbled into an expensive penthouse, except that there are no windows whatsoever. Claustrophobia clutches at your throat.</p><p>“Do pardon the mess,” Alnazar’s voice calls. “I wasn’t expecting company.”</p><p>“I-- I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” you shout back, trying (failing?) to sound polite.</p><p>At last, he makes himself known, drifting from around the corner, sporting his usual robes of sweeping lilac and uniform gentle smile. “And I you,” he replies. “Did you change your mind? Do you seek my help?”</p><p>“Um… yes and no. I’ll be keeping the investigation independent, but I have some questions to ask you concerning the dungeons.”</p><p>Alnazar offers you his hand. You hesitate. “Will you follow me?” he asks.</p><p>The whole reason you’ve come here is for answers, so you don’t have much of a choice. You nod and take his hand as a gesture of goodwill. As soon as his skin comes into contact with yours, a warm giddiness washes over your body, comforting and intoxicating. Instinct slips your fingers between his own. His grin widens, and <em>Gods</em> he takes a step closer to you, eyes glittering. </p><p>“You have come for knowledge,” he says. You manage a nod even though you feel so light you could float away. Alnazar leans close to your face so he can linger next to your cheek. The heat of his breath tickles your skin. “I can give you everything you desire, my pet, my enchantment-- but what would you give me in return? Mm?” He wraps a tender arm around your waist, pulling you into the safety of his robes and perfume. What is this feeling? How is it that all of a sudden you feel so… blissfully helpless?</p><p>“What do you want?” you murmur.</p><p>Alnazar nestles his head into the crook of your neck. His lips are even softer than you imagined. “Be mine,” he whispers, “to have, to take apart, to delight in. Promise never to see the sunlight again.”</p><p>The spell is shaken, if only for a moment. Reality sends a cold shock down your spine. “I don’t want to die,” you whimper. “I-- I never meant to get mixed up in all this. I should leave and never come back.”</p><p>“But I need you.”</p><p>“F-for what?”</p><p>He squeezes your fingers. “You wouldn’t dare to keep every drop of exquisite magic for yourself? I must have it for myself, little one, have you for myself, to treasure day by day while you are drained of lifeblood. You will live here, out of sight, away from the light. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”</p><p>Perfect? Is he serious? You try to wrestle away from Alnazar’s embrace, but he is deceptively strong, and you have to settle for shouting, “you’re twisted! The deal is off!”</p><p>“I’ll give you a taste, shall I? I am certain you’ll agree with me.”</p><p>“Bastard, let me go!”</p><p>A hand closes over your eyes before you can fight it. Again, that swirl of magic, so strong it feels like wind, sweeps you up, knocking your limbs askew, until you’re lying on your back against a hard flat surface. How did you get here? Which way is up and which is down? He takes his hand from your face so you can stare around at your surroundings, and you immediately regret looking. </p><p>A hundred bloodless corpses are strung up by golden cord from the infinite ceiling-- mutilated animals, mangled and bloodied, some of which you can’t even identify, even one or two naked humans with wide staring eyes. The specimens veins are bulging underneath their skin a hideous sick shade of purple. You screw your eyes shut again before you can make any more disturbing discoveries. </p><p>“Do not be envious of them,” Alnazar croons, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest when he trails his fingers along your eyelids, tracing their outline with featherlight precision. “I am finished with them. We, however, we are just beginning.”</p><p>You try to push his hand away and only now do you realize that your wrists are bound above your head by some weightless material. “Just wait until Lucio finds out about this,” you hiss. “He’ll notice I’m missing, and Marie will tell him what you’ve done, and you’ll be finished!”</p><p> </p><p>“Young flesh, supple flesh… what a gift, to be alive, to possess such hope and spirit…” He brushes his lips against your forehead once, twice, cupping your cheeks with both velvet hands. His breath coaxes your lips apart.</p><p>“Ah-- Alna-- Alnazar-- please, I’m scared!” you whisper.</p><p>He cooes in pleasure and presses his forehead to yours. “Yes, love, I know it, I can feel it--!”</p><p>“If you let me go, I-- I’ll give you anything you want! Name it!”</p><p>“Plead, plead, my pet, beg me, yes! Your longing for freedom is heavenly to taste!”</p><p>Heart hammering so hard it might burst out of your ribcage, you force your eyes open to meet his. Now that his face is so close, you don’t have to look at the dead things swinging from the ceiling, and you cling to that small victory for now. You try to keep your voice level as you speak. “What… are you going to… do with me?” you squeak.</p><p>“Nothing without your express permission. All of this may go away with one immovable word from you. I will return you to the surface, unharmed, and even remove any painful memories I may have caused you. However…” He lowers his gaze to examine your lips while he speaks. “The enlightenment you lust for will be lost to you forever. You will never be satisfied with your master’s teachings, nor with the answers that lie with the Countess.”</p><p>Your heart falls. The whole reason you’re down here is for that exact reason-- to help Lucio, to prove to Marie that you can take care of yourself, and, though you hate to admit it, to show yourself that you are more powerful than you feel. Now it seems you must decide if your pursuit has been worth it.</p><p>“Asra,” he mutters.</p><p>You blink a few times. “Er-- what?”</p><p>He meets your stare. For the first time, the smile has evaporated from his face, to be replaced by a worried frown. “That is my offering to you. My true name, to do with as you wish, as a collateral.”</p><p>Does… does this mean that he trusts you? You aren’t sure how to respond. “Oh,” you reply. “I… alright. Thank you, Asra.”</p><p>“You must make your choice. Think carefully, for once you choose, you may not turn back.”</p><p>You watch his eyes. His hands are… so soft, just like his gaze, just like his robes, just like his lips. It couldn’t be that terrible to stay here for a while. After all, Lucio would notice you were gone, and now that you told him of the dungeons existence, he would look for you if you vanished without a trace. Marie knows you’re here and of course would come for you if things went south. So...</p><p>“Yes,” you breathe. “I consent to you, Asra.”</p><p>The smile is back, just for a moment, before he closes the gap between his mouth and yours and kisses you. Your mind is wiped euphorically blank. The table against your back is gone as you float away from reality. He worships your mouth, outlining your teeth with his tongue, sucking and pressing closer and closer. A dull tugging pain begins in your chest and drags up, up, up, through your throat, into your mouth, past your lips. You twitch and shake. This isn’t right. Despite Asra’s perfect lips and gentle fingers, your body convulses as it tries to pull away. He’s taking <em>something</em> from you. You don’t know what it is, but you know it must be important from the way the pain mounts by the second, tearing at you from the inside out.</p><p>If he hadn’t released you, you might have passed out. You heave and tremble and sob against the table. “Asra!” you cry.</p><p>“There, my innocent dove, wasn’t that just divine?”</p><p>You sniffle and shake your head.</p><p>“You will learn. I will teach you.” He brushes a few stray hairs from your forehead. “It hurts, because you are afraid. Your fears will disappear with my help.” Asra runs his fingers down your cheek, your neck, to rest against your heart. “A shame,” he adds, “for your fear is a wonderful flavor.”</p><p>“F-flavor? What does that mean?”</p><p>“Fear and arousal fuel your magical aura in delectable ways. To coax your magic from your body, we will explore both of these techniques during your time here.”</p><p>You force your eyes open. Trying to avoid looking anywhere but at him, you whimper, “how long will it take?”</p><p>Asra’s fingertips trail down your torso and abdomen and stop dangerously close to the spot between your legs. “Until it runs out,” he purrs.</p><p>“Until-- until what runs out?”</p><p>He palms the cloth covering you and giggles when you jerk under his touch. “We shall find out together. And if you are unable to withstand the experiments, like the others…? Well, now, the pursuit of knowledge is reward enough, don’t you think, my dear?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. habibi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doctor isn’t sure how he ended up here. He remembers the apprentice-- Marie’s apprentice, yes, that strange nurse who worked at the palace for a few years during the height of the plague-- and he remembers speaking with them. They were very nice. They smiled at him, and even asked about his leeches, which made his heart soar with pride. And then they asked him about the Countess, and, well, they were just so nice, he just had to oblige them…</p><p>What happened next? How did these lovely ribbons wind themselves around his body, tight, cool, softer than silk? Did he take his own coat off?</p><p>And he doesn’t quite recognize where he’s sitting, either. He’s laying on his back on a wide round table, and if he cranes his neck just so, he can see white painted sigils underneath his body. </p><p>For a moment, he panics. Anxiety is soothed when he sees his jar of newest baby leeches propped up on a nearby pillow. Beside them, a golden censer oozes heady smoke. </p><p>“What a shame,” a cool voice floats in the breezeless air.</p><p>His heart leaps into his throat. He knows that voice very well.</p><p>“I suppose I didn’t have the highest of hopes for you, doctor, but nonetheless, I expected you to at least follow direct orders.”</p><p>The doctor smiles at the mere sound of his voice. “Master-- you brought me here? You wished to see me? I--” He’s cut off when a ribbon slithers around his throat and tugs tight. He chokes, then relaxes, rendered dreamy and lusty from lack of oxygen.</p><p>“You had one job, you know. One job. The easiest job, I might add. I told you not to alert anyone of our plans to revive the Countess.”</p><p>The doctor hangs limp in his bonds, eyes glazed over. He’s hardly listening. The ribbon around his neck releases him and he convulses, coughing and hacking.</p><p>“What am I going to do with you, my foolish Dr. Devorak? You simply cannot be left to your own devices.” Someone slips out from the shadows, a scowl across his pretty face and staining his lovely orchid eyes. His fingers are steepled together in front of his chest.</p><p>His foolish Dr. Devorak’s eyelashes flutter at the sight of him. “Master Alnazar,” he breathes.</p><p>“I want you to explain why you betrayed me.”</p><p>Dr. Devorak’s eyes widen and he squirms. “B-betray-- I never! I would never! You know I wouldn’t! Not you, not ever--”</p><p>“Oh, but you did,” Alnazar hisses. “You’re lucky I need you for information, or you would already be chopped into bits for Faust’s dinner.”</p><p>“P-please, oh-- hah please-- I never--”</p><p>“Out with it, you swab of pond scum, and be quick about it.”</p><p>The doctor gulps. “I-- I didn’t mean to, you see-- and, and I’m sure the apprentice will be understanding! Yes, they’re so very kind! I thought-- just a bit, just enough-- they wouldn’t go snooping, you see--”</p><p>Alnazar presses the tips of his fingers to his captive’s collar. The doctor moans and arches up to the touch, squirming with delight as Alanzar caresses the mark his ribbon made against his stark pale throat. “And what exactly did you reveal?” Alanzar continues.</p><p>“The-- the Masquerade-- <em>haah</em>-- special, secret-- we have planned for years and years--”</p><p>“And the ritual?”</p><p>Dr. Devorak closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Not the ritual,” he rasps. “Nn-- Master said the ritual was very secret-- not even the kind apprentice should know--”</p><p>“Very good, pet. Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I thought.”</p><p>Alnazar’s hand moves away, and Devorak’s eyes fly open and he pouts. “Master Alnazar-- you aren’t angry with me, are you?”</p><p>“You disobeyed me. Of course I am angry with you.”</p><p>“But--!”</p><p>With one swift movement, Alnazar seizes his shirt and rips it open down the middle. Buttons fly every which way and clatter around the windowless room. Less than a moment later, he climbs onto the table and places his palms on Devorak’s heaving ribs, gentle as a lover. “Poor thing,” he croons. “How I adore punishing you.”</p><p>The doctor exhales, trembling, in awe. “I adore… oh, I adore…”</p><p>“If the apprentice interrupts our ritual with one of their little friends, I will see to it personally that the Devil knows it is all your fault. He is not as merciful as I in his discipline.” Alnazar runs his hands up Devorak’s torso, maintaining eye contact all the while. His nails dig into the doctor’s sensitive skin.</p><p>“Aah--”</p><p>“Be thankful, too, that I take my anger out on you, not your precious leeches. I’d stick them to the side of a plague-ridden corpse and watch them burst from infection like overstuffed sausages.”</p><p>Devorak gasps, ready to plead, but he doesn’t have to. His Master leans down to kiss his lips and nothing else matters. He allows his eyelids to close, so he can surrender fully to the heady warmth flooding through his mouth. A familiar sucking sensation begins down in his chest as Alnazar inhales from his lungs. He resists his body’s instinct to twitch and struggle and instead allows it to escape with each shuddering breath. Alnazar explained it to him once, but he forgot, lovedrunk as he was-- is-- he never did quite understand the mechanics of magic and lifeforce. Something like a leech, but for magic.</p><p>Alnazar strokes fingers through his auburn hair. Any and all thought escapes him. The spell hurts, it aches so well within him, and the fact that he is being used and taken from and ripped apart is enough to make him melt into a puddle. When Alnazar pulls away Devorak has hardly any strength to lift his own head up in a weak attempt to continue the kiss. “That will do, pet,” Alnazar praises. “Yes, you were so obedient! How do you feel?”</p><p>The doctor’s lips curl into a sleepy smile. “Mm… better than perfect...” he slurs.</p><p>“You will not speak to the apprentice. You will avoid the apprentice at all costs. If they catch you, you will remain silent, until I come for you. Do you understand?”</p><p>“But-- what if they ask about the leeches? I’m the only one in the palace who--”</p><p>Alnazar’s nails slice into the flesh just under his collarbone, and Devorak squeals. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and his smile returns as blood rolls in precious ruby beads down his chest. “For every word you speak to them,” Alnazar growls, “one of your slimy little bloodsuckers will be swallowed whole by Faust. Have you known me to break a promise?”</p><p>“N-no, Master!”</p><p>“No indeed, my chattering skeletal flagpole. Your mouth opens only for me until the Devil’s ritual is complete and the Count has been disposed of once and for all.”</p><p>Devorak cooes. “Only for you, Master, always, beyond forever!”</p><p>The Quaestor gives him an affectionate eskimo kiss and a peck on the forehead and Devorak almost swoons from the tenderness of it. “I have work to do, my sweet captive, and so I must return you to the surface. Shall I summon you to my chambers later tonight?”</p><p>“By the Devil, please!”</p><p>Alnazar runs his thumb over Devorak’s bottom lip, smiling. “That apprentice… perhaps it is not quite your fault, for I can see why you are drawn to them. Their magical aura is quite intoxicating. I just might take them for myself.”</p><p>Jealousy pangs through the doctor’s heart. He quivers under Alnazar’s touch, muttering, “take the apprentice…? And keep them, Master?”</p><p>“You mustn't be envious. You know better than anyone that I take meals, not lovers... and the Devil’s playthings only go so far to slake my lust for magic. Even you must have smelled that wonderful aura on them-- two lifetimes of emotions, my pet, and bittersweet memories and hatred and adoration--!” His Master is salivating now, he can see it, and his orchid eyes are blown wide with hunger, and it makes Devorak weak. “Oh, yes, I’ll take them. If any mortal can withstand my experiments, it must be them.”</p><p>“You’ve never experimented on me before,” Devorak grumbles.</p><p>Alnazar flashes him a condescending smile. “<em>You</em> are no longer mortal. What’s the fun in experimenting on someone who cannot be killed in the process, Ilya?”</p><p>Devorak lolls his head back with a groan of pleasure. The sound of his mortal name, on his Master’s silken tongue, it’s honey…! “I am yours,” he breathes.</p><p>Gentle lips press to his, gentle palms cup his cheeks, gentle legs straddle his stomach. Everything is soft and weightless. The doctor arches up in an attempt to touch any part of his body, any at all, to any part of Alnazar’s, craving a hit like the addict he is. “Let me go,” he begs. “Untie me, please, I want to hold you!”</p><p>“Mm… tonight, pet, if you behave.”</p><p>“I will, I will!”</p><p>“Now I must get back to work. Come to me with the rising of the moon. Don’t be late, Ilya.” There’s a rushing sound, like pounding water in his ears, and though his hands grope uselessly in the air, he is falling away from his Master into shadows, shadows, shadows…</p><p>He’s sitting in an armchair in the Count’s parlor, alone. To his left, his jar of baby leeches sits on a table, the lid tied with a familiar lavender ribbon. His heart soars past his chest cavity and into the air. The moments where he feels human again are rare and far-between, but when they do come, they are lightweight and wonderful. He clutches at his own heart and lets out a yearning sigh.</p>
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